Fruitless Pursuit
by AstroGirl
Summary: Jack fails to score.


**Fruitless Pursuit**  
**by AstroGirl**

Rose looked up as Jack walked into the room that more-or-less served as the TARDIS's kitchen. "Oh," she said, swallowing the mouthful of tea she'd just taken. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, sitting down at the chair across the table from her. "How'd it go with... whatever it was the Doctor said you guys were going off to do?" He snatched a biscuit off her plate, ignoring her mock-offended glare.

"Mmm, translated from Doctor-ese, it turned out to be refitting some kind of power generator so it wouldn't trash the planet's environment. And it went fine, except for the one scary bit where he nearly put it to overload and we thought it might actually trash _everything_." She pulled the plate a little closer to her end of the table. "How about you? Have a good night out on the town while we were busy not blowing up the planet?" She looked around, as if double-checking the room. "Don't tell me you actually came home alone this time?" She raised an eyebrow and gave him a little smirk.

He gave her a grumpy look in return. "You tell _me_ you didn't know about it."

She blinked in confusion. "Jack, I know you failing to pull is, like, a newsworthy event, but why would I know about it when I was busy handing the Doctor his--" she suddenly realized she couldn't remember the name of a single alien tool the Doctor had used "--doohickeys, all night? And don't say it!" she warned, as Jack opened his mouth, no doubt to say something suggestive about the Doctor's... doohickeys.

"What? I wasn't going to say anything!" He regarded her for a long moment as he crunched the biscuit, then nodded. "All right, you didn't know." He reached forward and snatched another from the plate before she could yank it away again. Not fair, she thought. He had longer arms than she did. "You wanna hear what happened?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Is it a good story?"

"Well, it involves me being embarrassed and not getting any sex."

"Ooh, that's the best kind!" She popped the last of the biscuits into her mouth and mumbled around it. "Tell on!"

"You know, you're cute when you talk with your mouth full."

That got a bigger glare than the biscuit-stealing, and he waved away her wrath with a placating hand. "OK, OK! So, you know how, when we landed, I looked up this planet in the TARDIS library -- like the diligent former Time Agent I am -- and picked out some nice, simple clothes that'd blend in with the natives'?" He was still wearing them: short trousers in some kind of soft fabric that was ridiculously baggy around the hips and tapered to a skin-tight fit where they ended just below the knees, and a colorful piece of cloth wound around his torso in a complicated way that really didn't look like it should stay on.

"And I said I didn't see the point, 'cause you were never going to pass for a native anyway."

"That's not the point. It's a mark of respect for their culture."

She grinned. "Oh, come off it. You just wanted to dress in something the local clubbers would think was hot."

"Well... yeah. Which brings me to the point about how I am so going to _kill_ the Doctor. 'Oh, I'm sure you'll get some attention wearing _that_,' he said." It was really quite a good mimic of the Doctor's accent. "And here I thought he was just jealous."

She laughed. "You are _such_ a dreamer! So, go on, what happened?"

"OK, so, I went out to this club... Nice place, by the way. They had these drinks that came with little pieces of fruit cut into the shape of--" He broke off at Rose's impatient look. "All right. So I'm sitting there sipping my drink, gnawing on my interestingly-shaped garnish, and there's this... person... sitting down at the other end of the bar giving me the eye."

"Male or female?"

"Well... That's the thing. I couldn't tell. You've seen these people, they all have the same body type. Not that it's not an attractive body type. Sort of round _and _firm, _very_ nice. But no breasts on the girls. Which is a shame, really. I mean, I don't consider them to be necessary equipment or anything, but it's good to have a little variety." His hands made some vague, suggestive movements in the air, and Rose rolled her eyes.

Jack's own eyes twinkled a little as he continued. "Anyway, whatever. I figure with a little luck I'll find out later, and it'll be a nice surprise, right? So, we buy each other a few drinks, there's some chit-chat, there's some dancing... You know how it goes."

"Well, I'm not the expert _you_ are, but yeah, I think I've got the idea."

"I could give you lessons, you know." Jack waggled his eyebrows.

"When are you getting to the part where you get turned down? 'Cause I was promised this story was embarrassing."

Jack sighed. "Well, it started _off_ well. I mean, there I am, dancing with this gorgeous--" He faltered for a word.

"Alien," Rose supplied.

"Right, this gorgeous alien. And I do mean gorgeous. Big dark eyes, beautiful silky fur..." He broke off again as Rose gave a tiny, involuntary shudder. "What?"

"Well, I just... I don't know, _fur?_ You don't think that's a little weird?"

"What's wrong with fur? It's nice to run your fingers through, and if it's long enough, you can hold onto it when--"

She held up a hand. "I _so_ don't want that visual, thanks. It's just... I know they're people and all, but it'd be like snogging the family cat."

"Don't be so closed-minded, Rose."

"Nothing's weird to you, is it? I mean, I just can't see getting turned on by... fur. You know, when I was at school, there was this boy used to draw these, like, two-legged raccoon people with huge breasts, all over his notebooks. They caught him wanking to 'em one day, back behind the bike shed. His parents made him go see a psychiatrist. I mean, that's just not normal."

"You come from a strange, strange century, Rose."

"Look, if you've ever made it with a giant-breasted raccoon woman, I _really_ don't want to know about it, all right?"

"Uh, okay."

There was an entirely too significant pause, and Rose quickly leapt in to fill the silence. "You gonna finish this story or what?"

"Uh, where was I?"

"Dancing with Ms. or Mr. Silky-Fur."

"Right, dancing. And let me tell you, those people know how to _dance_. They do this thing where you start off barely touching each other." He held out his arms in demonstration, fingertips gently brushing against an imaginary partner. "And then as the music goes on, the rhythm changes, and you get closer and closer..." The arms pulled in, swaying back and forth in strangely hypnotic ways. "Until, by the end, you're pressed right up against each other, all slinky and sensual..."

He appeared to be getting entirely too into this imaginary dancing. "Uh, if you and your invisible dance partner want to be left alone...?"

Jack dropped his arms back down to his sides. "Well, it was nice. I was into it, he was into it--"

"He? Ah, so he was a 'he,' then?"

"Yeah, I'm getting to that part. So, we're pressed together, all..."

"Slinky and sensual?"

"Precisely. And suddenly, he lets out this..." Jack threw up his hands and made a sort of sputtering yowl, like a noise that might be made by a surprised and indignant cartoon pussycat. "And I'm like, 'What, did I step on your tail?'"

"Wait... They have _tails_?"

"Oh, yeah. They keep them under their clothes when they're working, but when they're ready to let their hair down, metaphorically speaking, they just 'em dangle."

"Oh, I'm not even going to _touch_ that one."

His face took on a morose expression. "Sadly, I didn't get to touch anything, either. 'Cause at this point, he just _screams_ at me, 'You're a _male_!'" Jack's voice conveyed the alien's words in an exaggerated tone of shock and anger. "And, man, I had, like sixteen _incredibly_ witty responses to that, but he didn't let me get any of 'em out before he slapped me and took off." He turned his head and displayed a jagged red mark she hadn't noticed before, just below his ear. "Those claw of theirs are _sharp_! I'm lucky he only got me with one."

Rose made a vaguely sympathetic noise, though the scratch didn't look all that bad to her. "Well, some people just aren't as open-minded as you are."

"Damn straight! Um, so to speak. But, y'know, that's OK. I can handle rejection. Not that it happens often, but I can handle it. No, what gets _me_ -- and this gets back to that 'I'm going to kill the Doctor' thing. Remember that 'I'm going to kill the Doctor' thing? -- is the _reason_ he thought I was guilty of false advertising, as explained to me by the club owner, right before he threw me out."

"Which is?"

Jack looked down at himself. Significantly.

Rose looked, too, and after a moment, she got it. "You're wearing girly clothes?"

"I," said Jack with great dignity, "am wearing girly clothes."

Rose tired not to giggle, quickly decided that was far too much work, and giggled.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" he said. "I thought there were just two different fashions. But I guarantee you the Doctor knew. And that's not all..."

"Oh? There's more?" She found herself giggling again, and waved a hand apologetically at his wounded look. "Sorry, sorry. Go on, please."

He waited until she'd stifled her laughter and gave a dramatic sigh. "Yes. And that leads into 'Why I am going to kill the Doctor,' part 2. Because there is the little matter of just what it was that led my dance partner to conclude that I was a male."

"Erm, I'd already figured that one out, actually."

"Ah, you came to the obvious conclusion. And so did I, at first. But upon further reflection..." He looked down at his lap. "See, the interesting thing about these pants is that they're not just baggy. They're _padded_." Rose raised an eyebrow, and Jack grinned at her. "Well, _lined_, OK? Because Jack Harkness has _never_ needed padding, trust me."

"So it wasn't..." She let that sentence trail off suggestively.

"It wasn't. It really, really wasn't." With a flourish, Jack reached into a capacious pocked and produced...

"A _banana_?"

"Not that I wasn't also glad to see him. But..."

The giggles started up again, bubbling up from inside of her and bursting forth like insane little hiccups. She put a finger in her mouth and bit down, but there was no stopping them. Especially not given the incredibly comical martyred expression on Jack's face.

"And, let me tell you," he said, "_I'm_ not the one who put it in my pocket..."

As if on cue, the Doctor breezed in, grinned widely at nothing in particular, and ignored Rose completely to make beeline for Jack and his banana. "Ah! I've been looking for that! Thanks!" He snatched the yellow fruit out of Jack's hand, and somehow, was gone again before Jack's mouth had managed to form any words.

"Hey," he finally managed to yell as the kitchen door swung shut. "Hey, no you don't! I got nothing else out of tonight; I am at least eating that damn banana!" He sprinted for the door.

Rose laid her head on her arms, laughing so loud she never did get to hear which one of them won the tussle.


End file.
